


Up in smoke

by FixaIdea



Series: Un-romantic Partnership [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:33:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4706189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FixaIdea/pseuds/FixaIdea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire had a fine night out - which rapidly goes to hell when a terribly upset Enjolras turns up to yell at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up in smoke

**Author's Note:**

> This one's set some time after 'In Retrospect', and while it can be understood on its own, the characterisation makes more sense if you know that one.

Grantaire was having a fine night. It was Friday, and he’d promised himself a peaceful, alcohol-filled evening, completely free of politics. He was out with some fellows of the boxing club he attended – sans Bahorel, sadly, but the man had some urgent business to attend to. Or so he said anyway. Grantaire suspected this ‘urgent business’ had to do with the fact that his girlfriend has unexpectedly taken a day off.

Grantaire was about to relay this information to his friends when he was seized by the shoulder and spun around so violently he nearly fell out of his chair.

‘WHY THE HELL DO YOU EVEN HAVE A PHONE IF YOU WON’T PICK IT UP?!’

Grantaire stared. The person still gripping his shoulder was an unbelievably angry Enjolras.

‘Your phone. Why didn’t you answer it?’ he asked again, a little calmer now.

Grantaire opened his mouth – and closed it again. What the ever-loving hell was going on? Even at his angriest Enjolras wasn’t given to shouting like that and for the life of him R couldn’t recall a single reason he could have pissed him off at all, let alone this much.

‘I forgot to charge it. Seriously, whatever it is, couldn’t it wait a few damn hours?’

‘Couldn’t it…?’ Enjolras snapped, but he reined himself in immediately. He took a deep breath. ‘Of course you don’t know, how could you know… We were looking for you.’

On a closer look, Enjolras didn’t seem pissed as much as upset. Grantaire also noticed just now that the hand still gripping his shoulder was trembling. Now he was beginning to worry. He was about to ask what has happened but Enjolras was already on his own phone.

‘Joly? Call the others off, I found him. No, he’s fine, he was at a bar, his phone died, that’s all. No, I’ll tell him. Yes, I’ll stay with him, don’t worry. Bye.’

By the time he hung up Grantaire was properly afraid.

‘Christ, Enjolras, what the hell happened?’

The man sighed, released his grip on Grantaire and stroked his arm a few times.

‘Come outside, I’ll explain. Sorry for shouting at you like that, but when you didn’t answer your phone we all feared the worst.’

‘WHAT?!’

By now they were out at the backyard of the pub. Enjolras pushed him down onto the stairs and sat down beside him.

‘The building you live in burned out. Jehan saw it in the 6 o’clock news and called everyone when he couldn’t reach you.’

Grantaire blinked at him.

‘We don’t know if your flat was destroyed or not, or how much of your belongings are salvageable. The fire seems to have started two floors below yours, but it spread pretty badly.’

Grantaire continued to stare in silence.

‘Four people died. One in the fire, two from smoke poisoning and one who tried to escape by jumping out the window.’

Grantaire shook his head.

‘Are you sure you’ve got the right address?’

Enjolras scooted closer and slid an arm around his shoulder.

‘I’m afraid I do, but you can check it. It’s all over the news.’

He pulled up France 24 on Enjolras' phone – and sure enough, in the top story about the burning of a Parisian apartment building his own address was staring back at him.

He let the phone drop. It would have been incorrect to say he didn’t believe it – it didn’t even register as something real. He was vaguely aware of Enjolras talking to him, but by the time he started to pay attention they have already walked half the distance to his friend’s flat.

‘Sorry, I… Did you say something?’

Enjolras gently squeezed his shoulder.

‘I said you can come home with me and deal with the situation tomorrow.’

Grantaire nodded, absently.

The next thing that actually registered with him was Enjolras dumping a T-shirt, a boxer and a towel in his arms and gently pushing him towards the bathroom. When did they even arrive?

He shrugged and opened the bathroom door, only to stop in his tracks and turn back to Enjolras.

‘Now I know what you meant.’

‘What I meant?’

‘When you were attacked. You said it felt like it happened to someone else. I didn’t really know what to make of that…’

He couldn’t finish his sentence properly, because Enjolras was hugging him so tight he could hardly breathe.

‘I’m here for you, R. We all are.’

They left it at that for the time. Grantaire washed up and was about to retire to Enjolras’ spare room, but he thought better of it. Surely Enjolras would understand…? He knocked on his friend’s door.

Enjolras opened up – and after taking one look at R’s face he took him by the hand and pulled him into bed.

They lay in silence for a while, Grantaire’s head tucked under Enjolras’ chin, the latter quietly stroking his back.

‘There’s nothing we can do about the emotional value of the flat or the things you might have lost’ said Enjolras, breaking the silence ‘But it’s not the end, far from it. You had your wallet on you with your ID and debit card and also your smartphone. You don’t have to worry about housing either – you can move in with me if you find my spare room suitable.’

R laughed at that, a little wet, a little hysterical.

‘You’re a kind man Enjolras, and I grateful, but think about it. How would it be like, living with me? I’d drive you crazy in two weeks.’

‘I’m sure we could manage. Look, I’m not asking you to move in permanently if you don’t want that, but you need a room and I have a room.’

And if that didn’t sum up Enjolras’ view on the world, nothing did. Bless his overly logical little socialist heart.

‘Still, you shouldn’t make offers like that. I might take you up on it.’

‘I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.’

Of course. That’s Enjolras for you.

‘Look, I don’t mean to press you into anything. If you want to move in with someone else I’m sure we’ll find a way. I just wanted to you to know that you don’t have to worry about your future.’

Grantaire squeezed his friend’s arm and murmured a quiet thank-you. He couldn’t cry that night.

***

The next day Grantaire, Enjolras, Feuilly and Bahorel gathered half a dozen cardboard boxes and went to check if any of R’s property could be saved.

The block of flats was in a terrible condition: while the walls were still standing all the windows on the first, and some on the second floor were blind, the exterior of the building blackened by smoke.

They had to wait almost an hour as the inhabitants were allowed inside one group at a time, and for only ten minutes each.

Grantaire honestly couldn’t recall a time more horrible than this one hour: because while he, personally, had a safety-net provided by his friends, most of the tenants, families with children among them, were left penniless and with nowhere to go. They were all gathered around the backyard stairway, the only relatively safe one in the ruined building, some quiet and shell-shocked like Grantaire, some wailing and hysterical, all hopeless.

When R and his companions were finally allowed inside they discovered that his flat wasn’t actually that badly damaged. There was, of course, no chance of him moving back in as the apartment house as a whole was beyond saving, and they couldn’t carry his furniture away, but things still looked a lot better than they expected.

They gathered what they could in the limited time they were given – paperwork, art supplies, books and _that one mug Prouvaire hand-painted for R’s 22th birthday_ – and were on their way.

After they loaded everything into Bahorel’s car and were ready to go, Bahorel turned back and looked at R.

‘Where to?’

Grantaire took a deep breath.

‘To Enjolras’.’

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, 'Enjolras aquires a flatmate' is officially my favourite trope.


End file.
